Wake Me Not
by Feste the Fool
Summary: Is this is a dream? O, if it be a dream,/Let me sleep on, and do not wake me yet!, wrote Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. Terence, on the other hand, has the opposite problem. Canon divergent. May want to read at least the last few chapters of my "Especially There" and Elfpen's "Courtiers and Faeries," as the Glorie Girls will be playing a role.
1. Prologue

_Everybody's a dreamer. -John Lithgow_

Gawain jerked awake at the light touch of a hand on his shoulder. He remained tense and frozen for a few seconds, startled by the unfamiliar surroundings. At last the anxious and newly familiar voice registered by his ear. "Milord? Milord, are you all right? Milord?"

The young man propped himself up on one arm and rubbed his eyes, willing his heart to stop pounding. "I'm fine, Terence. Thank you for waking me. Is Tor still asleep?"

The boy who would be his squire remained wide-eyed and frightened. "He went to fetch wood for the fire. Are you ill, milord? You look like you were ill."

He shook his head. "No, it was just a bad dream."

The boy's nose wrinkled in confusion. "…A dream?"

Gawain blinked. "Surely you know what a dream is."

"I know a dream is something you want to do someday," he said, frowning. "An ambition. A goal."

"Yes, but that meaning starts with the dreams you have at night."

"What do you mean?"

He rubbed his forehead and sat up. "I know you've lived a sheltered life, lad, but _surely _you've had a dream before? It's when you're sleeping and your mind sort of shows you images. Like watching a play, except you're a part of it. And things don't make sense sometimes. There are good dreams that are pleasant to watch, and bad dreams that are sad or frightening. The worst ones are called nightmares."

The fearful look returned to the boy's face. "That sounds like magic."

"If you annoy a sorcerer, they could be. But mostly they're just like memories, or fantasies. Things your mind just conjures up while you're asleep." He eyed Terence curiously. "You really didn't know what they were?"

Terence shrugged. "I've never had one. And if Trevisant did, he didn't tell me."

"Well, aren't you a puzzle?" Gawain said, scratching his chin. "You sure you just don't remember them?"

"Who could forget something that played in their heads?"

Gawain chuckled. "You'd be surprised. They're common enough that it's easy to forget them."

"Oh." The boy thought for a moment. "No, I've just never had one."

Tor came back into camp then, adding his armful of logs to the depleted pile by the fire and stirring up the flames with new fuel. Gawain offered to take watch, since he was already up, and Tor, who'd been yawning as he walked back, curled up and nodded off almost immediately. Gawain propped himself up against a tree, one eye on the fire and one on the darkness between the trees. "Go to bed, Terence," he said, catching a glimpse of the boy's movement by the fire. "We should reach Camelot tomorrow."

Terence, his head too full of dreaming to try to sleep, wrapped himself up in Gawain's spare blanket. "…If the dream you just had was bad," he asked, "what was it about? What did you see?"

Gawain fidgeted. "…If you have to know, it was about my mother."

"…Wouldn't that be a good dream, then?"

"Not with my mother."

"Oh." Terence rolled over, and Gawain heard no more from him that night. The time passed slowly, and he found himself yawning just as badly as Tor had been when next the other man woke and sent him to bed. Gawain fell asleep quickly and dreamed of his home in Orkney again. This time, however, when his dreaming self turned around quickly, he could see a flash of cloth and brown hair as someone darted just out of sight.

By morning, it was forgotten.

* * *

**So I've finally decided to do something with the headcanon I've been teasing into most if not all of my ST stories and I really hope you guys like it. More chapters coming as I write them. I hope to have this story finished by November, or at least before November's end; it shouldn't end up being too awfully long, knock on wood. Or don't, I guess, if you want a long one, but I'm knocking. **

**The Squire's Tales series is the brainchild of the perfect, beautiful, wonderful Gerald Morris. Any characters you see are his, and have been conveniently kidnapped for torturing and snuggling purposes. **


	2. Chapter One

_All the things one has forgotten scream for help in dreams. -Elias Canetti_

Gawain rose from his lunch at the sound of someone knocking on his door. "Just a moment," he called taking the tunic from the back of his chair. He pulled it over his head and chest and crossed the room, stretching muscles sore from the morning's hard training. He opened the door a crack, then swung it open wide and bowed when he saw who was standing there. "My liege! Come in! What do I owe the pleasure?"

The king nodded in return and crossed the threshold. "Can't I just visit my nephew every once in a while? I hope I'm not disturbing your meal."

"Not at all," Gawain said, pulling another chair up to the table and waving him into a seat.

Arthur sat and stole a grape from Gawain's plate. "I heard you had a busy morning."

"Just training," he replied. "Well, that and a handful of young Continentals challenged me, the silly fools."

Arthur's eyes twinkled. "Didn't think you were as great as all the stories say, huh? I hope you didn't thrash them _too _soundly. Where's Terence?" he asked, cutting off Gawain's protests that he wasn't as great as all that.

"Squire's Court. He promised some of the less foppish young squires he would give them a private archery lesson.

"Ah." The king paused as if he wanted to say something more, but didn't. "I've been thinking of setting up a tournament. There hasn't been one since the latest batch of Continentals. What do you think?"

Gawain shrugged and tore his chunk of bread in half. "Whatever you'd like, my lord."

"You don't have any preference as to when or what time it's held? Considering that you're most likely to win, with Lancelot in France for the next month and Kai's leg bothering him?"

"Honestly, I've been thinking of planning a trip home myself. It's been a while since I went to see Gaheris and Lynet. Little Luneta's growing too quickly for my tastes. She'll be of age before too long."

"I'll let Kai know to set it for the afternoon then." He paused another second. "So…Terence is all right?"

Gawain's brow furrowed. "…He was this morning?"

"He was? He was feeling fine?"

"Arthur, is something wrong?"

The king shook his head. "No, not really. It's stupid."

"What's stupid?"

"I had a…I had a nightmare last night, that's all."

The knight frowned. "About _Terence?_"

"No, Terence wasn't in it at all. That's what was unusual." He leaned forward onto the table and gave Gawain a sheepish smile. "It's silly, I said. Terence is in all of my nightmares, driving off the things that _make _them nightmares. He has been ever since the two of you came to court. Remember, the cauldron and the woman—"

"I remember," Gawain said, his eyes darkening.

"But he wasn't last night, and…"

"It's like seeing a good friend dead in a dream?" he suggested, his finger tracing the bottom of his mug. "You know it was just a dream, but you want to make sure they're still breathing anyway?"

Arthur relaxed. "…Yes, exactly like that."

Gawain took a deep drink and munched a piece of cheese. "Well, no need to fear. Terence is alive and perfectly whole. I'll tell him you asked about him."

The king nodded. "So your trip to Orkney…"

The two talked for half an hour or more about Orkney and its steward, then about the upcoming tournament, then about some small political issues upcoming. By the time the conversation came to a standstill, Gawain had finished his lunch and Arthur showed no signs of preparing to leave. His nephew raised an eyebrow. "Your majesty? I don't think he'll be in for another hour."

His cheeks flushed just slightly. "It is rather silly of me to try to wait, isn't it? Especially when I don't really have anything to say to him."

Gawain nodded. "And I'm sure your lords won't appreciate you hiding in my rooms to check on a lowly squire, either.

"I don't even know why I'm so bothered by this," Arthur said, shaking his head. He stood, and Gawain stood with him. "I suppose I just haven't had a real nightmare in years."

"Really?"

"Yes. Sleep was the one thing I could do without fear of any danger, not even imagined ones. I suppose I've gotten complacent. And sit down, nephew. You're not going anywhere, are you?"

Gawain shook his head and, grinning, took his seat again. "I'll see you at dinner, then?"

"Yes. And if you wouldn't mind having one of your little get-togethers in a few days, Parsifal wrote he'd be in Camelot soon." He nodded, and the king left.

Gawain happily spent the next hour writing letters to Gaheris, Lorie, and his daughters. He'd been teaching swordwork to the starstruck newer knights all week. It was nice to have a quiet day, even if it did make him homesick. For both Orkney and Avalon. He took solace in the fact that he'd been planning the trip to Orkney for some time, and that he was expected Home for Brigette and Lottie's thirteenth birthday in a few months. He looked forward to seeing them in person rather than getting descriptions of them from his visits with Lorie through the moat around the castle.

Terence came in soon after he finished Brigette's letter. Although the thin sheen of sweat on his forehead indicated that archery practice had run long, he looked more irritated than tired. Gawain was much more distracted by delicious smell floating from the warm scone he had clutched in his hand, a pat of butter melting on top. "Stealing from the kitchens again, are you? Is that blackberry?"

"Mulberry, and I didn't steal it," he said, pushing the door closed with his hip as he balanced his bow and quiver by the door. "Sophy and I have an arrangement. And it's _mine, _not _yours, _so eyes off. I earned this scone."

He chuckled and moved from his writing desk to the table again, propping his feet up this time. "I've heard about your and Sophy's _arrangements._ Other squires being thick today?"

The squire rolled his eyes. "I'm going to kill the continentals. Either they've never _seen _a bow in their lives, or it's 'a skill for a country yokel, not a _proper_ squire.'" He looked down his nose and tsked like the knight had seen several of the newer French courtiers do and scoffed.

"Arthur was in," Gawain said, smiling as Terence, nibbling his scone, plopped down in the chair across from him and glared at his feet on the low table. He knew very well the only reason the squire's feet didn't join his was because it was early yet and someone could come in unexpectedly. "He asked about you."

Terence's glare shifted from Gawain's feet to his face. "Really? Whatever for?"

"Had a bad dream and wanted to make sure you were all right."

He frowned. "I'm touched."

"You should be. He was _adamant_ about it. That's a very _curious_ thing, don't you think, that a king should have a nightmare about a squire? Then to wake up and seek that squire out and verify his health, even if the squire in question _was_ close to the center of the court? Very curious."

Terence paused in the buttering of his scone. "What are you getting at?"

Gawain leaned forward and snatched the scone from Terence's hand. "Do you think he _knows?_"

"Knows _what? _And give that back." He snapped the pastry away.

Gawain rolled his eyes and reached across the table again. Terence moved the scone out of reach, and was unprepared for the gentle swat to the side of his head. "Knows that your scrawny faery hide rules Avalon, you domnoddy. Unless you're hiding some other great secret from him."

He scowled and rubbed his ear, chomping down dramatically on his pastry. "I don't know. He may suspect something. We'll have to be more careful."

"_You'll_ have to be more careful."

"_We_ will. Don't think I didn't notice you sneaking off to the castle moat last week."

Gawain's jaw dropped. "You said you were going to stay with Eileen that night!"

"I was. But I've kept a closer watch on you since the twins were born. If anyone's going to become their favorite relative, it's going to be _me_."

Gawain's mouth snapped closed. He growled, then stood and swiped the remaining quarter-scone from Terence's hand and stuffed the whole thing in his mouth at once. Warm mulberries exploded in his mouth—Sophy did make _very _good scones. Terence huffed and kicked his shin.

"Are you going to dinner at court tonight?"

"I told the king I'd be there," he answered around a full mouth.

"I was hoping to turn in early."

The knight shrugged. "Sorry."

Terence narrowed his eyes. "You're not sorry at all."

He swallowed the last crumbs and grinned wolfishly. "Were you _really _going to turn in early, or sneak off for a quick visit to Avalon?"

"I was _actually _going to go to bed. I got to sleep late last night."

"Well, we don't have anything pressing tomorrow, so you can sleep in. Are you coming to Orkney with me? I'm leaving in two weeks."

The squire shrugged. "Not sure. Cuchulain wants me in soon for training, and Ganscotter said something about planning the court season opening…I may drop in on the way back."

"Bring the girls with you?"

"If Lorie says it's all right."

Gawain nodded and smiled softly. "Thanks, lad."

"Anything, milord," Terence said, then rose from his seat. "Well, if you don't need me until dinner, I'm going to try to catch a nap."

"Be my guest, lazy bones," he answered, waving Terence toward his room. "I'm going to formally inform the seneschal of my intent to travel soon."

The squire grunted. "Kai asked me to sharpen his boot dagger—it should be in my quiver, if you wouldn't mind giving it to him while you're out."

Gawain walked over and sorted through arrows to find a sheathed dagger. He held it up. "This it?" Terence nodded, and he pocketed the knife. He opened the door and glanced back with a smirk. "Sleep well, my prince."

He shut the door just in time to miss a boot flying toward his head and walked off with a snicker.

* * *

**Whoops, okay, I lied. All characters belong to Gerald Morris except Lottie and Brigette, who belong to me and Elfpen. And I'd explain more about the place in canon of this, but I haven't EXACTLY placed it yet and I don't have time right now. Hope you enjoyed!**

**Edit: Don't get excited, it's the same chapter. Edited to add quote and mark timing. This takes place after The Princess, The Crone, and the Dung Cart Knight, but before The Lioness and her Knight. Lancelot's back at court and Luneta's about fourteen and the twins are approximately thirteen, but may be younger or older depending. Because of the dissonance between time passing in the World of Men and time passing in Avalon, they age a little oddly. And this is assuming they were born around the same time Luneta was. Which I am. So there.**


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